


Booster

by Crockzilla



Series: Domesti-Kink with Spideypool [35]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Ass Play, Crying, Doctor/Patient, Innocent!Peter, M/M, Medical Kink, Needles, Playing Doctor, Topping from the Bottom, Virginity Kink, Virginity Roleplay, doctor!Wade, dom!wade, pretend virgin, sub!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crockzilla/pseuds/Crockzilla
Summary: Peter wants to re-create a very memorable doctor's appointment from his youth. Wade helps.





	Booster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Monkeybarrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeybarrel/gifts).



No one had a right to look this cute with a thermometer sticking out of their mouth. But that was Peter Parker for you.

Wade had fully intended to stick a thermometer in Peter’s lovely ass (and he’d found a candy thermometer that was huge and sturdy and perfect) because of course he had. He enjoyed sticking things in Peter’s ass. It was one of his Favorite Things, right alongside having Peter stick things in his ass. And Peter would have looked incredibly cute, laid out on the exam table, all flushed and embarrassed, underwear pulled down just below his cheeks, his tight little hole all squishy with Vaseline as Wade held the thick thermometer in place. Mmm.

But when Wade had opened the door to their pretend exam room and found his beloved sitting on the edge of the table, socked feet twisting together in anxiety, looking up at him startled with big brown eyes, he’d kind of – well, melted. He had not expected this. Yes, this whole scenario was based on Peter’s actual freshman year of high school check up, but he had not been prepared for his Spidey to do such a perfect imitation of his teenage self.

After all, last time they’d played Doctor, Peter had been a bit giggly. Which had been adorable, and he’d managed to put on the Stern Doctor Face when it counted, but still. Wade had expected giggly. Campy, even. 

So they had a new candy thermometer that would probably at some point end up in one of their asses because that’s just what became of any phallic object around their home, but not today. And anyway, Peter had blushed beautifully just from Dr. Deadpool telling him to open up, his pretty lips parting tentatively and then closing carefully down around the thin glass tube. Delicious. Sticking things in Peter’s mouth was also one of Wade’s Favorite Things.

“Good job,” Dr. Deadpool said, taking hold of the thermometer and removing it. As soon as his lips were free, Peter bit them, nervously, watching his doctor look at the reading. 

“Ninety-nine point seven,” Wade announced, cheerfully. “Perfect.”

Peter looked moderately relieved, and Wade registered how thrilling it was to just take his love’s temperature, to know that information about him. Perhaps he should start taking Peter’s temperature every day. For medical reasons.

“Let’s see how your pulse is,” he explained as he took Peter’s deceptively thin wrist in his hand, pressing his two middle fingers on the pulse-point. Ooh, that was nice, too. Daily pulse and temperature readings from here on out.

“Little fast,” he told his patient, lightly. “Are you nervous, Peter?”

Pretending to have a more formal relationship was just delightful as it forced him to call his Spidey things besides “Sweet Cheeks” and “Honey Bunch” and, well, “Spidey.” Peter nodded his head, eyes darting down as if he was ashamed. It was like a rubber band squeezing around Wade’s heart.

“That’s okay,” he assured him, patting his hand a bit before releasing it for Peter to pull back into his lap. “Everybody’s scared of the doctor, even almost-high-school-students.”

Peter shrugged a little. This was a major part of the scenario, Wade knew – his embarrassment at being afraid in the first place. The memory had stayed with him and turned, as most memories like this one did, into something deeply erotic.

“Would it help if we talked about what’s going to happen?” Wade asked. He almost sang the little song from Daniel Tiger about talking before doing scary things, but no no no, he did not want to think about Daniel Tiger right now (what the actual fuck, brain?)

Peter didn’t say anything but looked up at him, expectantly. He wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed his sweet little chatter-box be this quiet for this long. “I’m gonna finish taking your vitals,” Wade explained, “and then I’m going to ask you some questions, then I’m going to look at and feel your whole body to make sure you’re all healthy, and then I’ll give you your booster shots and we’ll be all done.”

Wade held his breath because that was the thing, the whole reason they were here, and sure enough – at the mention of booster shots, Peter turned white. 

Yum.

He finished up vitals, using a tiny flashlight to look in his patient’s eyes and down his throat. Peter had put the kibosh on looking in his ears or up his nose during their negotiation, which Wade did not think was fair because he enjoyed all of Peter’s holes. Peter had rolled his eyes at that and gotten a sound spanking for it, which had probably been Peter’s goal in the first place.

Peter was a clever, sneaky little shit.

Wade rubbed the end of the stethoscope against the fabric of his white coat to warm it before sliding it under his patient’s soft cotton T-shirt. Dr. Deadpool had let him keep it on, along with his boxers and his socks, since he was obviously super self-conscious and nervous to begin with. His heart was beating like a trapped rabbit’s in Wade’s ears.

“Deep breath,” he instructed, one hand on his patient’s shoulder to steady him. Peter breathed in and out, determinedly, as if he was trying extra hard to be good. “Perfect,” said Dr. Deadpool, and he could see his patient’s neck flush from the praise as he leaned closer to press the stethoscope to his back. He could feel him shaking, like legitimately trembling, and he had to fight the urge to give the poor kid a hug.

No, no -- not kid. Peter. His boyfriend. Who was thirty.

Wade leaned back, satisfied that his patient’s lungs were clear and heart was in rhythm. (He’d done some research. Spidey wasn’t the only one who put elaborate planning into scenes.) He considered his beloved, who was looking at him worriedly as if Wade was about to tell him he had no lungs at all or was about to do something hideously painful to him.

“Let’s see,” Dr. Deadpool sat down in his rolly doctor’s chair, taking a clipboard from the counter (where he had laid out all of his various medical instruments before his patient had entered the room). “These questions are pretty easy, some of them are kind of personal, but just be honest with me, okay?”

Peter nodded, still worrying his lip but relaxing his tense posture somewhat now that his doctor was also sitting down. Wade was proud of him -- he was really doing a great job of staying in character so far, and it was making him feel feelings he wasn’t sure what to do with. He was pretty sure, though, that this next bit was where he’d get Peter to crack, to turn back into his naughty, very adult self.

“How old are you, Peter?”

“Fifteen,” came the timid reply, and Jesus Mary Joe he sounded young and innocent and shoot maybe these Given Circumstances questions were backfiring. Wade chose to skip a few.

“Do you smoke?”

Peter shook his head.

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Sometimes,” Peter admitted, eyes wide.

“Well, you need to stop,” Wade said, trying to inject as much paternal authority into his voice as he could muster. “Caffeine’s not good for you. Stunts your growth.”

He thought that crack might have made his angry tiny love come out of character to indignantly remind him that if he was a lady he would be considered tall (which was bullshit), but Peter just nodded, looking contrite. Eager to please. 

Dr. Deadpool cleared his throat. “Do you drink alcohol?”

Peter shook his head, vehemently.

“Do you do drugs?”

Peter started to shake his head, and then caught himself. “Well --”

Ooh, here it came! Wade sat up straighter.

“ -- sometimes I take three ibuprofen at once instead of waiting an hour to take the third one.”

He looked like he was afraid his doctor was going to tell him he’d poisoned himself and would need daily enemas for a month to counter the effects (which was not -- a bad idea but -- no, not today, perhaps). “That’s okay,” Wade reassured him, unable to resist those giant eyes. “As long as you don’t take more than you’re supposed to in a twelve-hour period.”

Peter nodded, solemnly. Wade suddenly realized that he was supposed to be playing kinky doctor and he was giving his boyfriend cautionary advice about ibuprofen. Goddamnit. Peter had found the most creative and insidious way possible to top from the bottom. Not surprising, but -- ooh, he was such a devious little shit. Wade’s heart swelled with love for him even as his brain seethed with frustration.

But now things were going to change.

“Are you sexually active, Peter?”

Peter actually. Genuinely. In real life. Turned four shades of red. In like three seconds.

How.

“No,” he said, voice breaking adorably. 

Fuck. Wade had fully expected to see a wry, dirty smile curl up on his Spidey’s lips at that question. Instead, he looked every bit the pure, scandalized youth. It was -- guh. New tactic.

“Are you sure?” Wade said, leaning forward and trying to look stern.

It must have worked because Peter drew back, nodding so hard that it looked painful. “Yes, yes sir, I promise.”

Jesus Shitting Damnit. Wade shifted in his seat, attempting to maintain his dignity as he covered the Insta-Boner that Peter calling him “sir” had summoned. And Peter knew -- he had to know, had to have done that on purpose, but it did not show on his face. He was winning this game.

“Have you experimented with getting physical?” Wade pressed, scribbling on his clipboard, hoping it would make his patient nervous. “Kissing? Touching?”

Peter blushed again, looking down at his knees. He nodded.

“With girls? Boys? Other types of humans?”

His patient’s head snapped up, and Wade thought he might have succeeded. “Just girls,” Peter said, quietly. “But --”

Ooh. “But you’re curious about boys? And/or non-binary-type folks?”

Peter looked at him intently and nodded his head. He didn’t look afraid anymore, just -- cautiously interested.

“Anybody in particular?”

Surely. Surely Peter wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to go full on camp and talk about Wade as if he was a high school crush. Instead, Peter shook his head. “I’m not really -- popular.”

Agh. Wade nearly vomited his heart right up onto the linoleum floor. “I find that hard to believe,” he said, mustering his skills. “Handsome guy like you? Watch -- once you start high school, you’ll have to beat them off with a stick.”

Peter smiled, pleased, and cut his eyes away. Wade thought he might have done it, might have broken character, finally, but when he looked back at his doctor from under his way-too-pretty lashes, he was hardcore maintaining the pure and innocent thing.

“Do you know about how boys have sex with each other, Peter?”

That got the bashful smile off his face, which gave Wade a thrill of satisfaction. “I mean -- kind of,” his patient replied, swallowing.

“Well, maybe we’ll talk about that before we’re done,” said Dr. Deadpool, standing and putting his clipboard aside. Wade thought he saw a glint of Peter, his Peter, look at him askance as if thrown by his sudden change of tactics, but teenage!Peter recovered himself and sat up, ready for whatever was next.

“Let’s lay you back,” Wade said, taking his patient by the shoulder and guiding him down onto the table. It was long enough that his socked feet barely hung off, but it was narrow. Peter’s eyes darted around, obviously startled by his sudden vulnerability, laying there with his doctor standing over him. Yum yum yum.

“Now, I’m just going to feel your glands.”

Peter’s eyes widened, but Wade put his fingers behind his ears and gently pressed a line around his jaw and down the sides of this throat. His patient closed his eyes for a moment, seeming calmed by the touch. It made Wade’s tummy do a tiny back-flip. He moved his fingertips down to Peter’s collarbones, slipping under the neck of his t-shirt.

“I’m gonna go under your shirt now, okay?” he asked, lifting the edge of the material at Peter’s stomach and sliding a hand under without waiting for a reply, as doctors tended to do. His patient gasped a little at the intrusion. He didn’t protest, but Wade could feel him trembling again.

And then Peter looked up and saw the kitten poster Wade had affixed to the ceiling. He’d seen this in a gynecologist’s office before (he did not care to share why he had been in a gynecologist’s office). He figured a family doctor, which was the aesthetic he was going for, might have a happy little poster on their ceiling to calm a skittish patient while their doctor was palpating them.

“That’s right, just focus on the kitties,” he coaxed, fingertips moving up to Peter’s nipples, pressing slow, deliberate circles radiating out from them. He kept his touch clinical, as non-erotic as possible in what he knew was one of Peter’s primary erogenous zones. Pink tinged his patient’s face and neck for like the thirtieth time since the exam had begun.

“You’re okay,” he soothed. “Arms up.”

Peter obediently lifted his arms, looking at him with those big eyes, eager to please and yet so, so nervous. Wade pressed his fingertips gently over the skin of his under-arms, careful not to tickle, and down the sides of Peter’s rib cage. He was not one-hundred percent sure what he was feeling for (Nodes? Didn’t humans have – nodes? Or something?) but his patient didn’t question him, just accepted his authority.

“Now I’m going to feel your private parts, okay?” Wade warned him, taking his hands from underneath Peter’s shirt and re-covering him with the soft material. “I know it’s a little scary, but I’ll be quick and it won’t hurt. We want to make sure nothing’s wrong down there, right?”

Peter bit his lip, and Wade could see his chest rise and fall more quickly, but he nodded his consent. Poor guy, he was trying so hard to be a good patient but this was so very, very upsetting for him and they hadn’t even gotten to the shots part. Wade decided to give the kid a break and palpate this region over his boxers.

No. Fuck. He was doing it again. This was not a modest youth. This was Peter, his Peter, who had fucked him like thirty minutes after declaring his love, who had fallen from the Happy Kinky Slut tree and hit every single branch on the way down. This was an act, all an act!

Wade gently pressed his fingertips into the join of Peter’s hips and thighs. Over his boxers. He pressed a line down through the crease, his fingers meeting in the middle right above his genitals. His patient squirmed. “Hold still now,” he chastised in that infantilizing way that doctors did.

Wade felt down the length of Peter’s cock, which was not exactly soft at this moment, but he was a professional so he ignored that, not wanting to embarrass his patient any more than necessary. He gently felt at Peter’s balls, pressing them through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

“Knees up,” he instructed, moving his patient’s legs without waiting so that his feet lay flat on the table, knees bent. He lifted Peter’s cock and balls away with one hand and pressed the first two fingers of his other hand to the base of his genitals, feeling a path down his perineum to just the top of his asshole. He heard a shuddery intake of breath and saw Peter’s fingers grip the sides of the exam table.

“All done with that,” Dr. Deadpool announced, helping his patient to sit up. Peter blinked, once again caught off-guard by the abrupt transition, which was just what Wade had intended. He pretended not to notice his patient strategically fold his hands in his lap right over his freshly-palpated crotch.

“You are super healthy and all ready to start high school,” Wade announced, making a few notes on his clipboard before turning to Peter with a winning smile. “Just one last thing and you’ll be free to go.”

Peter, who had been looking rather pleasantly dazed, suddenly went white again, fixing his doctor with large, frightened eyes. 

“I know it sucks to get shots,” Wade said, placing his hand on his patient’s shoulder which was trembling again. “But it’s so important, right? You don’t want the diseases these things keep you from getting – that would mean hospital stays and much worse things than getting a little shot in the butt, right?”

“In the --?” Peter stammered, his face turning somehow white and red at the same time.

“Yeah, I’m afraid these aren’t the arm kind,” Dr. Deadpool said sympathetically as he washed his hands in the sink. “Go ahead and hop down and put your elbows on the table. Boxers don’t need to come all the way down, just kind of to the top of your cheeks.”

It took a great deal of willpower to continue looking away while his patient processed those instructions, but Wade simply dried his hands and gathered his instruments as if he’d asked Peter to grab the mail. He could almost feel the waves of arousal and dread rolling off of his tiny love’s body as he hesitantly complied with his doctor’s orders, leaning over the end of the exam table.

When Wade turned around, he had to take a moment. There was his sweetie, his gorgeous Spidey, all vulnerable and bent forward, a blush stretching from the tops of his ears down his neck, pert ass ready and waiting for his doctor.

His boxers were still basically at the very top of his hips. Wade wasn’t sure if that was due to teenage!Peter’s shame or adult!Peter’s natural smart-assery. It didn’t matter much.

“That won’t quite do it, Pete,” the doctor chuckled, taking hold of either side of his patient’s shorts and tugging them down several inches so that just the top of his ass crack was visible. Peter let out a strangled little yelp. “There we go,” Dr. Deadpool said, cheerfully.

“Does it have to –?” Wade looked up from where he was arranging the two filled syringes, two bandages, cotton balls, and alcohol on the exam table to see his patient looking at him with shiny eyes. “Can’t it go in, like, my thigh or something?” Peter asked in a small voice.

“I’m afraid not, pal,” Wade replied, the smell of alcohol filling the space as he prepared a cotton ball. “But I promise this’ll be over fast. You’ve been such a good brave patient so far, just keep it up, okay?”

That little bit of manipulation seemed to work as Peter nodded and looked down at the exam table, clenching his hands where they rested on the smooth material. The alcohol smell that invariably meant “shot” well after one became an adult was making even Wade a little nervous, so he couldn’t imagine the anxiety filling his poor patient as he carefully swabbed his exposed skin with the cotton ball.

Wade picked up the first syringe and paused. He had gone over this with Peter. Peter had given people shots before. He had put needles in Wade before. There was no way that Wade could hurt him, he had said. He’d even demonstrated on himself, injecting the saline solution into his own skin to prove to Wade that it was completely safe. Wade trusted him.

Dr. Deadpool tapped the saline-filled syringe before turning to his patient. When he did, he caught Peter swiping at his eyes with one fist before quickly placing his elbow back on the table. Wade’s heart clenched, but it was a good clench. These were fun!tears. This was exactly what Peter had wanted.

“You’ll be okay,” Dr. Deadpool comforted, placing one hand above the shot sight to hold his patient still. “Deep breath.”

He heard and felt Peter obediently draw in a breath and swiftly stuck the needle into his disinfected skin before he could second-guess himself. Peter jumped. “Hold still,” Wade instructed, sternly. His patient sucked in a tiny hiss of discomfort as Wade steadily pushed the saline into the muscle of his ass. Peter had told him it would burn.

“Good boy,” he said as he withdrew the needle, unable to help himself. He set the empty syringe on the table top, right in Peter’s line of sight, and grabbed a bandage. “Just one more and we’re all done,” he said as he smoothed the Lisa Frank themed bandage over the shot sight, giving it a little pat before reaching for the other cotton ball.

He heard Peter whimper ever so slightly as he swabbed the same spot on his other hip. “You’re okay,” he reassured as he picked up the other, full syringe. “But you’ve got to hold still for this one, all right? Don’t want me to miss.”

He accompanied the mild scolding with a little spank right on the swell of his patient’s ass (again, could not help himself). 

“I didn’t mean to,” Peter said with a sniffle, “ ‘m sorry.” Wade was nearly overcome with the desire to scoop him up and kiss him all over. Peter Parker, Emotional Terrorist.

“You don’t have to be sorry ,” Dr. Deadpool comforted, placing his hand above the mirror shot sight. “I know it’s scary, and you’re doing so well. One more deep breath for me.”

His patient obediently drew in another deep if somewhat shaky breath and Wade jabbed the needle in, more confidently this time, able to savor the yummy feeling of penetrating this beautiful body in a brand new way. Peter twitched but didn’t jump like he had the first time. This one had a bit more liquid in it than the first shot (which Peter had specifically asked for) and so it took about twice as long to administer. Judging by the little whine that escaped his patient as he pressed down on the plunger, it also burned twice as much.

Wade moved to place the second empty syringe on the table and realized he was hard as a fucking rock. Hm. He tried to surreptitiously fasten his white coat over his crotch with one hand as he affixed the Lisa Frank bandage to Peter’s ass with the other. “Great job,” he announced, “all done with that.”

He saw Peter’s shoulders sag with relief, but as his patient tried to stand straight up, Wade stopped him with a hand in the middle of his back. “Ooh, stay there just a minute, Peter,” he said, trying to keep his voice totally professional. “I want to check one more thing before I let you go.”

Peter’s head snapped around, eyes full of surprise and dread. “Since you mentioned you might be interested in getting physical with – a variety of kinds of people,” Dr. Deadpool explained, hand still firmly holding him in place, “I think I should do a little rectal exam. Just to make sure you’re all healthy down there.”

His patient stared at him for a moment, mouth moving wordlessly, as if he was unable to process what he’d heard.

“Lean all the way down for me,” Dr. Deadpool instructed, pressing solidly on his back, “tummy on the table, okay?”

As he complied, unable to resist his doctor’s authoritative hand, Peter glanced back at him again. Wade gasped. Suddenly – finally! – there he was, his Peter, his very grown up Spidey, the tiniest hint of a lustful smile curving his beautiful lips. It was gone in an instant as Peter submissively laid his cheek down on the exam table, but Wade saw it. It was very difficult not to shriek with joy, but he thought that would rather kill the mood.

“I’m gonna pull your shorts down to your thighs but not off, okay?” 

Peter didn’t respond. He seemed to be focused on breathing. But Dr. Deadpool didn’t need his permission – this was, after all, for his own good. He slowly tugged the boxers down, revealing Peter’s unspeakably gorgeous ass inch by inch, until the waistband was just under his cheeks. “Don’t move,” he instructed, leaving his patient exposed as he went to the counter to gather his supplies.

Wade took his sweet time collecting a box of rubber gloves and an unreasonably large jar of Vaseline, glancing a few times over to the exam table to see that lovely body all stretched out and vulnerable, thighs pressed against the table’s edge, ass arched perfectly, waiting, just for him. He could have written a sonnet.

He felt Peter’s whole body stiffen as he approached the table, and he set the large Vaseline jar right next to his love’s head, the box of gloves next to it. He watched Peter watch him snap on one of the blue, matte gloves, open the jar, stick two fingers in and scoop out a thick glop of the clear substance.

“You’re gonna feel me spread your cheeks and then some squishy stuff, okay? I’m just gonna push some of this into your hole so it doesn’t hurt when I put my fingers in there.”

Peter stayed perfectly still and made no sound except for his labored breathing. Wade thought he could hear his patient’s heart beating. Or maybe that was his own heart. 

“You’ve gotta open your legs for me a little bit, Peter.”

His patient moved his socked feet apart by approximately two inches.

“Bit more,” the doctor coaxed, tapping him on the inner thigh. Peter gasped at the touch but complied, spreading his legs so that the waistband of his boxers was stretched wide.

Dr. Deadpool gently parted Peter’s ass cheeks with one hand, holding them open to expose that pretty hole that he enjoyed so much. He resisted the urge to give up the game, abandon his role and put his mouth on Peter, fuck him with his tongue right then. Instead, he took a calming breath and pressed one Vaseline-y finger against the puckered muscle.

Peter gasped and shuddered down his whole body. Holy wow.

“You’re all right,” he said, soothingly, as he circled the area with the tip of his finger before starting to gently push against the center. “I want you to take a deep breath and let it out as slowly as you can.”

Peter once again drew in a shaky breath (and he could get used to this whole being in charge of his beloved’s breathing thing) and started to release it, slowly. Wade gave him about three seconds of exhaling before pushing his fingertip into the tight ring of muscle. Peter cried out, exhaling the rest of his breath all at once.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Dr. Deadpool reassured as he slowly moved his finger in and out of his patient, just past the first knuckle. “Just getting you all nice and slick for me.”

Peter huffed out another breath, hands gripping the sides of the exam table. Wade felt him try to move his hips forward, away from the intruding finger, but he was stopped by the edge of the table. He could only hold still or impale himself back.

“Okay, now,” Wade said casually as he removed his gloved hand, “I need to put two fingers in for the exam. It’ll feel weird and maybe a little uncomfortable, but I won’t hurt you. I’m gonna feel around inside, and then we’ll be done. Can you be brave for me, Peter?”

Peter nodded against the smooth material of the table, eyes glassy, face flushed, shaking. Wade rubbed his thumb over his index and middle fingers to spread out the rest of the Vaseline, re-opened Peter’s cheeks with his other hand, then gently but steadily pushed one finger into the tight ring, feeling it give helplessly against the pressure. The little pucker clamped down but there was no friction to be had, nothing that would protect it from this invasion. He heard Peter let out a small sob.

“There’s one,” he said evenly once his index finger was in up to the second knuckle. “Now here’s two.”

He expertly pushed his second finger in alongside the first, coaxing the hole open bit by bit until both digits were in an equal amount. Then, moving slowly, he pressed both fingers deeper until the knuckles that joined them to his hand were pressed against Peter’s entrance. “There we go. Just breathe and get used to the feeling for a second.”

Wade had witnessed Peter fuck himself with a unicorn-horn-themed dildo, on his knees, watching Wade over his shoulder, grinning and moaning with pleasure as he watched Wade’s brain melt from the hotness. He had walked around for three days with a giant plug in his ass and had nearly cried with disappointment when Wade insisted on removing it. He had said things about Wade’s “big cock” and “need it so bad” that would make a seasoned courtesan blush. He was what some might call a Size Queen.

But right now, he was squirming, trying desperately to get away from Wade’s fingers inside of him, forcing him open. Whimpering like a goddamn virgin.

Wade was very glad that the scrubs he was wearing under his white coat were so loose because he was pretty sure any friction whatsoever would cause him to climax very, very prematurely.

“Now I’m gonna feel the inside of your rectum, okay?”

Wade started moving his fingers, ever so gently, feeling the inner walls of Peter’s ass with his fingers. His patient let out a muffled little whine of protest, and he tried once again to squirm away. His doctor landed one hard spank on his left thigh.

“Peter. Hold still.”

He watched his patient’s fingers clench, watched him turn his face down and press his forehead into the soft, smooth material. Dr. Deadpool continued his exam, rotating his fingers inside the tight heat, taking his time to make sure everything felt the way it should.

Suddenly, Peter cried out, head popping up from the table, back arching. “That’s your prostate,” his doctor informed him. “That’s what makes it feel good when somebody touches you in here, or when you touch yourself. Have you ever tried that before, Peter?”

Peter shook his head, back still arched in discomfort and pleasure.

“Are you sure?” Dr. Deadpool angled. “You seem pretty excited about this, like maybe you’ve tried it, or maybe you’ve just thought about it before but haven’t done it. Yet.”

Wade scissored his fingers apart from each other and rotated them back and forth. His patient let out a moan.

“Babe, I can’t, please fuck me.”

The grin that spread across Wade’s face was nearly painful. “Don’t you mean, please fuck me, Dr. Deadpool?”

“Yes, Dr. Deadpool,” Peter said, hitting at the exam table in frustration, “whatever, Christ!”

Wade whistled as his beloved tried to push back on his fingers. “First we need to do something about that mouth of yours.”

His eyes landed on the box of latex gloves. It was smallish. He reached forward with his free hand to grab it, holding it up to Peter’s mouth. Peter obediently opened, stretching wide for Wade to set the box between his jaws, clamping down on it with a disgruntled groan. Wade giggled.

“Stay still, you,” he instructed with another sharp slap to Peter’s ass as he pulled off his squishy glove, pulling out the tube of actual lube that he’d strategically placed in his lab coat pocket for just such an occasion as this. He quickly dropped his scrub pants and slicked himself up before taking hold of Peter’s waiting hips and pushing into him. 

Peter moaned gloriously around his makeshift gag. Wade started moving at a devilishly slow pace. He couldn’t understand the words Peter was saying, but he got the gist.

Despite his self-restraint, neither of them lasted long. They were forced to go for a second round, this time with Dr. Deadpool splayed out on the exam table, legs over his patient’s shoulders, hands scrambling for something to grip as he was fucked, the kitties watching them from the ceiling.

*~*~*

“I can’t believe you didn’t stick this in my ass.”

Peter swirled the candy thermometer, disturbing the syrup mixture that was just now starting to bubble like the recipe said it was supposed to. Wade plucked the thermometer out of his hand and set it against the side of the pan. “All in good time,” he assured. “And for now, homemade marshmallows!”

“We should probably pour this stuff on each other and eat it off,” Peter suggested, wrapping his arms around Wade’s waist as Wade carefully scraped the gloopy substance into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients. “For science.”

Peter’s roving fingers found one of Wade’s nipples and tweaked, making him nearly drop the entire bowl. He was making up for his early innocence and compliance by being an adorable brat, and he was like seconds away from getting sent to the corner. Which was probably his intention.

Wade grabbed the mischievous little hand and kissed it. “Perhaps we should wait to pour it on each other until it’s not two-hundred-and-forty degrees anymore.”

“You’re no fun,” Peter pouted, dramatically slumping against the counter.

Wade raised an eyebrow, turning the mixer on a high setting. “I guess you’ll have to ask some other fake doctor to give you your booster shots next time.”

“No!” Peter glommed back onto him, making Wade giggle. “I like my doctor with his medically-unnecessary rectal exams.”

Peter kissed him, and it was so nice to touch each other like this again. Role play was always immensely fun, but one of Wade’s favorite parts was getting to turn back into themselves once the game was over. 

“How long do these take to make?” Peter asked in his ear.

“Well, this is an Alton Brown recipe,” Wade replied, kissing his neck. “So, like, four days. But mostly unattended.”

“But it has to mix for a while, right?”

Wade nodded. Peter grinned like the evil cutie that he was and held up the long, thick candy thermometer, which he’d somehow removed from pan and cleaned off without Wade noticing. As he was pulled toward the bedroom, Wade briefly mourned the poor marshmallows that would never reach adulthood as they were inevitably about to be mixed an ungodly amount. Oh, well.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU to Monkeybarrel for giving me an excuse to write Dr. Deadpool!!!
> 
> Up Next: Sounding Extravaganza for Bex <333
> 
> Got an request/idea? Tumble me! crockzilla.tumblr.com


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